"Man, my late grandfather, an aviation buff, would have loved this place for the theme alone... [hidden link] Located near the Allegheny County Airport, The Skyvue, a West Mifflin mainstay that is currently celebrating its 75th anniversary, was fairly recently renovated after having been closed for several years. The small bar was well-attended by what surely were regulars. That dining room, however, was gorgeously and unexpectedly appointed with its bright, hardwood floors, model airplanes, propellers, jukebox, and old, framed photographs. Hit songs from the 1950 's played continuously. Kay and I were the only ones not bellying up for beer. A local food critic who goes by the pseudonym Munch gave Skyvue a favorable write-up as well as a glimpse into its backstory. What...could go...wrong? After being ignored for 5 minutes we were told by an apologetic and cheery barmaid to Just sit anywhere. Hmph. We coulda done that on our own. Sleuthing their menu online before visiting this past Monday night en route to Wal-Mart (ugh , I already knew which entree I wanted: Swordfish! It had been a good while since I had some! No burgers tonight! It wasn 't until I was halfway finished with the slab of fierce sea creature that Kay slipped a Reader 's Digest-worthy factoid into my glass 'o Pepsi. Hon, you should never order fish at a restaurant on a Monday unless they specialize in it. It 's probably not fresh. I would think you 'd know that, Mr. Foodie. I did not know that, I responded, channeling Johnny Carson. Hence the uneven nature of my blackened filet. Some morsels were arid and tough. Others were juicy, fatty, and flavorsome. A stunning remoulade sauce and a tasteful presentation almost made up for the lackluster hunk of oceanic protein. Almost. Seconding my fish was a dish of unseasoned, drab garlic mashed potatoes and a colorful, buttery, tasty, and all too brief medley of red bell peppers and zucchini. A hopeful appetizer consisting of parmesan-encrusted, deep-fried artichoke hearts complete with a side of horseradish mayonnaise only furthered my disappointment with the main course. I had seen Bobby Flay eat these on Food Network special program on carnival food and had hankered for them since then. Apparently, anything can be plunged in hot fat after having been battered, and these fleshy nuggets were indeed a treat. A garden salad came close to winning me over as well, its bold, snappy honey-mustard dressing proving delightful. Dessert for moi was a humble pecan ball in an elegant goblet. A mound of piped on (real? whipped cream topped the cold, golden, caramel-laced vanilla spheroid. 'Twas nothing to salivate nor vomit o 'er. Dessert for Her was an absolute floozy of a chocolate cake cut. Kay refused to finish it, so I intervened, and found its lack of personality striking. The icing tasted like chocolate vegetable shortening, and the cake itself was akin to a dry sponge. Her turn-ons? Greasy hair, barbed wire tats, expensive stuff married men buy for her, reality TV, lonely old millionaires, plastic surgery, and juiceheads. Turn-offs? Reading, thinking, working, and other women. At least she looked good, though. A gal like that needs to make the fellas rubberneck. Also forcing me to reduce my appraisal was the inexcusably poor service. I have to reiterate that The Skyvue 's dining area was empty when we arrived, and not only were we disregarded for a time, but so was another couple who became annoyed and left unbeknownst to the staff! One more party of 2 came in while Kay and I ate, and not only did they eventually seat themselves, but the barkeep waited on them herself. Our actual server, a sweet, pretty young lass, barely handled one group (that 's us! competently and had to enlist the reserves. To be fair, the bartender sort of had enough to deal with. Conversely, the waitress had what any other person in her field would consider a dead night. Moreover, our dishes took much too long to arrive at our table, and we had to remind our server for refills constantly. Crud, did I want to like eating here, especially after motoring past it uncounted times. Well, I kinda did, anyway. I guess I should have ordered a Bacon Cheeseburger like Munch did, and like I do far too often. P.S. Am I being lenient here? Our meal before tip cost $60! And no, I only left a gratuity of 15%. As you may know, I usually give around 20."
